Page 14 of The Plus Ones
“They’re fully booked for that week. I double-checked.”
“Seriously? You double-checked? You actually called the couples-only resort to see if there were any rooms available?”
“I put myself on the waitlist. People cancel reservations all the time. People become one half of a couple all the time. So I hear.”
“Why don’t you take some girl somewhere else for Valentine’s Day?”
“I just might do that.”
“Fantastic. Please give the unfortunate lady my condolences.”
“Well, I don’t have a particular girl in mind yet, so how about I just give every lady I know and meet your condolences from now on?”
“Sounds about right.”
“And you? Do you not have a particular victim in mind for a Valentine’s week excursion?”
I do not have to answer that. I lower my voice. “Thanks for cockblocking me with Lloyd, by the way.” I do a quick scan of the room. Lloyd is nowhere to be found. “He was nice.”
“I thought so too. That’s why I was pretty sure you weren’t into him.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Then you’re welcome.”
“I did not require your assistance. I am perfectly capable of cockblocking myself, thank you very much.”
He laughs. It always surprises me when he laughs. I expect him to have an arrogant Bond villain cackle, but his eyes get all sparkly, and I hate it because it’s confusing and I hate being confused. “My apologies,” he says. “I suppose I underestimated your ability to repel him on your own.”
Bernadette returns with my coat. “I love this coat. I think I ordered this online too. I wonder where I put it.”
I hug her. “Merry Christmas,” I say to her and to her only.
Keaton opens the front door for me. “Shall I call my driver?”
“Not on my account.”
“Come on. I won’t go with you. I’ll just have him drop you off.”
“Oh my darlings, look who’s standing under the mistletoe!” A stylish lady in her sixties or seventies—or maybe late fifties—is standing outside the door, holding shopping bags filled with gifts. It’s Matt’s Aunt Dolly.
“Good evening, Dolores,” Keaton says with his stupid flirty voice, stepping out onto the front steps to help her with the bags. “Happy holidays.”
“Mr. Keaton Bridges, you’re looking very handsome as always. Hello, Roxy, my dear gorgeous vixen.”
“Lovely to see you, Dolly.” I step aside. “Come on in. I was just leaving.”
“I’ll come in just as soon as you two beautiful young people respect the very important holiday tradition of kissing under the mistletoe.”
I look up at the mistletoe that’s hanging above the doorway. “Well, we aren’t standing under it anymore, so…” I shrug.
“Only because I interrupted you. Go on. Don’t leave an old lady hanging.”
Yer killin’ me, Dolores.
Keaton steps back inside and gives me a quick peck on the cheek. It’s just a stupid peck on the cheek, but feeling his lips on me again gives me the stomach butterflies. I hate the stomach butterflies. I hate how good he smells. This guy has probably never held a wrench or even a screwdriver in his life. He’s probably clean all the time. He probably doesn’t even sweat at the gym.
“Thanks,” I say. Which is dumb. It’s such a dumb thing to say, but I didn’t want to not say anything and appear tongue-tied just because he kissed me on the cheek. Only I can’t think of any other words besides “thanks.” Like I needed that or something. Like he just did me a favor.
